It Don’t Matter How They Die
Somebody has got to die around here. Soon, or I won’t be eating much. Seems like this Great Depression would knock people off left, right and in between, but no. Even Mrs Anderson, all eat up with cancer, is still hanging on.
I was sure she would cooperate and die by now.
Don’t help that I got a hangover today. Too much moonshine, down by the river. Old McSweeney and that I-talian ended up joining me for a jar or several. Get them drunk, and they ain’t so bad.
That Mr Perkins, over at the mercantile, he been bugging me to see a dead body. Since he’s known to have a bad heart, I figure he might die before somebody keels over and does it for him.
So, I hatched a one of my Hungover Plans as soon as he knocked on the front door.
“Why, Mr Perkins. Today is your lucky day. I happen to have a body, freshly dead, down there in the basement.”
He took off his hat and followed me down the stairs. I walked up behind him.
“See here? Rigor mortis.”
Mr Perkins moved closer to squint at the arm that hung out from under the sheet. “Can you make it bend at all when it gets like that?”
“Not atall. And, see this leg right here? It’s longer than the other one.”
About that time, the body sat up under the sheet. Started moaning. Loud.
Mr Perkins’ eyeballs almost busted clean out of his head, and he hightailed it out of there faster than I ever saw a human being move. Broke one of my good lamps on the way out the door.
I followed him, pretending to apologize, but really I hoped he’d have a heart attack and expire on the way home.
I’m still waiting for that call, but I did tip my boy with a jar of my best moonshine for doing his part.
Welcome to The Undertaker Series, a set of stories inspired by my father. He told me a story late one night, on our trip to Tennessee. If this is your first visit, please click here to go back to the beginning and click here for the second post in the story.
Are those bottles filled with body fluids or embalming liquid?
Arancello. We used to have an orange tree, and we made it every year.
And it’s delicious! I can attest to that.
This post is delicious too, Andra. I love an undertaker with a sense of humor, even one that macabre. B~O~O!
He’s an interesting character, Nancy.
Now that is just mean! I can’t imagine who would do such a thing. Next you will have the poor guy on a heart monitor and check for varicose veins!
You devilishly cruel woman.
The Undertaker could stand a dose of his own medicine.
That moonshine looks a lot like lemoncello to me, YUMMMMM
You know it because you’ve had some, Lou.
This seems weird but I can hear the accent(s0 and feel the time. This is really effective writing. I like how you started this chapter.
What’s worse is that my father actually did a version of this at UGA. Big practical joke with no dead wishes for anyone.
You are a country girl and totally nailed the speech. “I-talian” is perfect!
The voices tend to talk in my head………
Wicked sense of humor.
Or just wicked.
Hahahahaha, priceless. Thank you for the gaffaw this morning. I’m still smiling….of course…I probably wouldn’t be smiling if I were Mr. Perkins. :-O
Arancello, those bottles are holding precious tastiness. Mmmmm. I know, I was blessed enough to receive some.
We only have about half that left. I wonder how we will make it this year?
Order a box of oranges from a grove in FL. OR just drive down and pick up a box.
We’ll have to do something like that, Cheryl, because I will miss having this stuff.
Oops. That doesn’t sound very good, does it?
No judgments at all. None.
This little story is so funny. So I’ll give you the traditional, like +
I always like getting like +.
Lovely dark humour, Andra.
Thank you. We needed some humor today.
Oops… I missed the start of this series. Been busy and now checking in to blogland, starting with Andra (of course)
I hope you are well and surviving the storm…
p.s. pretty funny story… that’s one way to scare up business…
Yes. It is.
No real storm this far south. Just a little wind and some rain.
Ahaahaaa!!!! That’s AWESOME.
Awesomely morbid, I think.
Very funny, Andra. hehehehe
I can’t decide if I like this character or not, Penny. He’s pretty twisted.
Cruel undertaker, Andra. Funny undertaker!
I could hear the groans myself coming from the ‘body’!
He’s a sadist. That’s for sure.
I have to think that anyone all that curious to see a dead body might just have a joke coming to them! I see your comment that your father pulled this prank at one time…I can just imagine his guffaw at that one! I also agree with Lance…I can hear the accent and feel the time, too. I really visualize this well, thanks to your ability to write a great character piece!